


Begin to Make It Better

by Zana_Zira



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Caring Sam, Crying Dean, Dean-Centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e10 Heaven and Hell, Gen, Manpain, Prompt Fill, Sad Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2346584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zana_Zira/pseuds/Zana_Zira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is even more broken inside than he appears after talking about his time in Hell, and he does his very best not to reveal that fact to anyone. But when his mask of calm finally starts to crack, it will be up to Sam to put Dean back together again before he shatters completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begin to Make It Better

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I do not own any of these guys.
> 
> A/N: This was inspired by a piece of art done by ArtsyVana on DeviantArt (link can be found on the bottom of this page). The prompt under the picture was: "Dean is still heartbroken and sad after what he was put through in Hell, and Sam is there to comfort him and mend his broken heart. :) NO Wincest, only platonic brotherly love."
> 
> Enjoy the angsty tears of man-pain and brotherly schmoop, courtesy of Season 4. :)

_"And Alastair… at the end of every day… every one… he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack… if I put souls on… if I started the torturing. And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For thirty years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. The – the things that I did to them…"_

_"Dean… Dean, look, you held out for thirty years. That's longer than anyone would have."_

_"How I feel… This… inside me… I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing."_

* * *

To say Sam was shocked by his brother's revelations about his time in Hell was the understatement of the century. He had known it wouldn't be a walk in the park, figured it had to be something terrible for Dean to be so closed-off about it from the very moment he was topside again, but this… Sam had never imagined someone having the capacity to do something so terrible to someone as undeserving of pain as his brother.

And now it finally made sense that Dean was having so many nightmares lately, when he used to sleep so easily that Sam, who had suffered from nightmares since early childhood, had almost hated him for it. Dean would rather die than torture innocent people, especially since most of them were probably victims of deals just like his.

Then again, in Hell he hadn't had the privilege of being able to die.

As he listened to Dean choking back sobs, fighting to pull himself together beside him, Sam couldn't think of a single thing to say that would make this better. What could he say? 'It's okay?' 'You didn't have a choice?' 'Those souls were probably corrupt anyway?' All of them were lies, he knew, and his brother would know it too.

So instead he just waited in silence, taking an occasional sip of beer whenever his own throat started to feel choked up with a sob or two, until Dean finally stepped away from the hood of the car, walking around to the driver's seat and motioning for Sam to get in too. Already his mask of indifference was mostly back in place; save for the redness of his eyes and the slowly drying tear tracks on his cheeks, no one would ever have been able to tell he'd been crying at all.

Dean hurriedly got them back on the road and kept his eyes focused ahead, turning the music up to an ear-splitting volume just in case Sam might decide to start talking about this again. And that was how Dean worked, Sam acknowledged with a heavy sigh, laying his head against the window and staring out at the early-autumn landscape whirling past. They were not done talking about this yet – far from it – but if Sam wanted to help his brother heal he was going to have to wait until Dean decided to open up again on his own.

He just hoped Dean would let him in before this shattered him completely.

* * *

Dean drove without speaking all the way to the motel, which they reached just after the sky had turned inky black and the stars were beginning to shine through the thin cover of clouds. It was just a little less ratty-looking outside than usual, and Sam really hoped that the slightly higher level of cleanliness outside didn't mean it was twice as dirty inside. When they got near the main office Dean parked the Impala, went inside to get them checked in, and then picked up his duffel and unlocked the door to their room without a word.

Thankfully, the room was actually pretty nice. It wasn't a double-king suite at the Marriott by any means, but the beds were tidy-looking and the comforters seemed clean, and the bathroom didn't reek of mold like it did in so many places they'd stayed before. There was a mini-fridge and functioning microwave too, which meant they could actually get some food that wasn't ramen noodles or single-serving takeout meals for once.

Sam moved over to the small kitchen/dining table and unpacked his laptop and a couple of books in silence, placing them on the table while he watched his brother out of the corner of his eye. Dean wasn't doing any of the obnoxious things he normally loved to do as soon as they entered a new motel, like throwing his muddy boots onto Sam's comforter, turning the TV onto a loud, poor-quality action movie at full volume, or dashing into the bathroom first so he could take an extra-long shower and make sure Sam nearly wet his pants before he was done.

No, Dean wasn't doing any of those things. Instead, he was simply lying on his back on the forest green-colored bedspread, boots still on and duffel still zipped at the foot of the mattress while he stared listlessly at the ceiling. Something was definitely not right with his brother. But that was totally understandable. Had their positions been reversed, Sam knew he would still be more than a little depressed after revealing something so horrific to Dean. Honestly, he  _was_  depressed now after just  _listening_  to Dean's descriptions of Hell, let alone actually being there. But he honestly had no idea what he should do to get Dean to talk to him, or at least cheer up a little.

Aside from that sudden outpouring of emotion a few hours ago, Dean had been extremely closed-off toward Sam ever since he had found out about Ruby. Not that he had ever been very open about his feelings, but this was a whole new level of emotional concealment. Of course, Sam couldn't really blame him; after all, he had gone out of his way to keep his activities over the last four months a secret, and Dean hated being out of the loop when it came to his little brother, dead and buried at the time or not. It was only fair that the older Winchester now felt the need to conceal his own weaknesses from Sam.

Still, the fact that Dean didn't tell him much anymore, likely because he incorrectly assumed Sam didn't care, was going to be a problem when it came to helping Dean overcome this crushing guilt he obviously carried. Out of other ideas, Sam opted to go for the food route. Anyone who knew Dean knew the easiest way to make him happy was by making his stomach happy. If it worked, great. If not, at least he could make sure his brother actually ate something tonight.

"Dean?" he asked softly, glad when the older Winchester at least turned his head to look at him.

"Yeah?"

_And he's talking too. Okay, this is progress._

"I'm gonna go on a food run. Anything specific you want?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm not really hungry. Just pick up something that isn't rabbit food and I'll eat it."

Sam inwardly sighed.  _A little less progress than I thought._  "Okay. I'll be back in a bit."

"Mmhmm."

Once he'd shut the motel room door behind him, Sam started up the Impala and got ready to head for the big fifties-style diner he'd seen on the way into town. If there was one thing those types of diners were famous for, it was awesome bacon cheeseburgers. And if he had to make a few side-trips to find a decent piece of apple pie, then so be it. Today Dean most definitely deserved some pie.

* * *

It took nearly an hour before Sam finally made it back to the motel room, thanks to the diner being more crowded and having slower service than any he ever remembered going to in his life. But hopefully it was going to be worth it, because the enormous double-bacon cheeseburger he had picked up for Dean smelled so delicious he was actually considering tossing his salad out and begging his brother to split it with him.

And then there was the pie. It was pure luck that he'd passed by the little bakery on the way back to the motel from the diner, but he was extremely happy that he had. The place had over thirty different kinds of pies in stock, and some he was sure even Dean hadn't tried before. Overwhelmed by the endless rows of fruit, custard, and cream-filled pies in the display case, he had opted for a simple lattice-topped apple pie, baked to a perfect golden brown and brushed with cinnamon sugar. If anything was guaranteed to make Dean happy any day of the year, it was getting a whole apple pie to himself.

Smiling to himself as he imagined what Dean's face would look like when he saw the treats, Sam quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside, bags of food held proudly out in front of him.

"Dean, I brought you –" He stopped suddenly, looking around the room when he realized he couldn't see his brother anywhere. "Dean?" He set the pie down on the table and stored the burger in the fridge, the first tendrils of worry starting to creep up the inside of his chest. Where had he gone? There was no light coming out from under the bathroom door, and his duffel was still sitting on the bed where he had left it earlier. If he had gone to take a shower, he would've taken the bag with him. Had he gone out for a walk, maybe? Or… had something happened?

He picked up his phone and had just begun dialing Dean's number when he heard a strange shuffling sound coming from behind the bathroom door. He put the phone back on the table and listened closely, heartbeat quickening when he realized it sounded like muffled whimpering.

"What in the world… Dean?" he asked again, making his way over to the door and rapping softly on it with his knuckles. "You in there?"

Nothing but silence met his ears, and he was about to turn around and dismiss it as the work of his imagination when he heard a quiet, barely-detectable sniffle from just beyond the cheap wooden door. And suddenly, he knew without a doubt that that was his brother in there. Slowly, dreading what he might find, he pushed open the door, which wasn't even locked. A beam of light shone dimly into the dark room, and once it had illuminated most of the floor Sam swallowed, feeling his eyes threaten to tear up at what he found.

"Oh, Dean…"

The older Winchester was sitting on the floor with his back against the far wall, knees pulled up to his chest and face hidden behind them as his entire body trembled with sobs. He had never bothered to turn on the light, and once Sam did it became even more obvious how badly he was shaking. Soft, keening cries escaped from his lips against his will with every rapid breath, echoing around the dark tile-covered room with all the loneliness and despair of a ghost's moaning.

When Dean heard Sam approaching he shrank even further into himself, hugging his knees tighter as if curling up smaller could make the other man disappear.

"Go away, Sam," he whispered, voice too tight with fighting back tears to get any louder, and Sam's heart felt like it was going to crack in two at how broken his big brother sounded. "Please… Please…"

The soft plea twisted in Sam's gut like a dull knife. Was Dean really so afraid of showing weakness that he didn't want Sam to comfort him now, even though he'd done the same for Sam all his life? Not willing to leave him alone but not knowing what else to do, Sam knelt down beside Dean, wrapping a long arm around him in an attempt to pull him closer.

To his surprise, Dean immediately uncurled and leaned against Sam, wrapping his arms around his younger brother in a tight hug and burying his face in his chest as if that would hide him from everything that was wrong in their world. The sobs came in full force now, loud, ugly wails of indescribable grief and pain and shame that Sam had never thought his brother capable of. Huge tears trailed down the older hunter's cheeks, wetting Sam's shirt where his face lay against it, and he clutched at a handful of the fabric with one hand as if he was afraid Sam would vanish if he let go.

Blinking away tears in his own eyes, Sam leaned forward and softly kissed Dean's temple, just the way his brother used to do when he was little and would wake up sobbing in Dean's arms, terrified by nightmares he couldn't even remember. It always used to bring him comfort then, and he hoped the same would be true for Dean now too.

"It's gonna be alright now, Dean. It's okay, I'm here," Sam whispered, rocking the two of them back and forth and tightening his arms around his brother's quivering body.

"'s my f-fault, Sam-my," Dean choked out around stuttering breaths. "I c-coulda said no to h-him, but I –"

"Shhh, shh…" Sam hushed him, carding his hands through Dean's short hair in an attempt to soothe him, hoping to get him calmed down before he worked himself into a panic attack. "It's not your fault, Dean. None of it. Do you hear me?"

"It i-is, Sam. 's all my fault. How can you e-even stand to look at m-me? I made a d-deal you didn't even w-ant me to make, a-and I was too weak to e-ven say no to a damn d-demon. You must be ash-shamed…"

"Dean, no, hey. Look at me." When Dean made no move to obey, Sam took hold of his chin and tilted his head until they were eye-to-eye; dull, watery green meeting strong, confident hazel. "I will  _never_  be ashamed of you, Dean. You've made mistakes in your life, yeah, but you're still the strongest person I've ever met, and you're the reason I'm still alive today. Feel this?"

He grabbed Dean's hand and pulled it up to lay flat over his chest, where his heart was pumping so hard with adrenaline he could actually see it make Dean's hand twitch upward with every beat. "I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you, Dean. You gave me a second chance I still haven't come anywhere near deserving. And all you got in return was…" Sam swallowed, unable to say it aloud. "I know I've never thanked you, and I'm sorry for that. But not one bit of this is your fault, Dean, and I could never, ever be ashamed of you."

Dean nodded, ducking his head down so he could lay his ear on Sam's chest, trying to ground himself with the sound of his brother's strong, healthy, still-alive heartbeat. After a long while, when his breaths had begun to steady slightly and the tears had stopped dripping quite so freely down his cheeks, he whispered, "I'm scared, Sammy…"

Sam smiled sadly. "I know, Big Brother. I know."

The two of them stayed like that for another half an hour, until Dean had finally cried himself to the point of exhaustion and started to fall asleep in Sam's arms. Sighing in relief when he finally noticed this, the younger Winchester stood and gently hefted most of Dean's weight over his shoulders, his brother stumbling along drunkenly as Sam guided both of them toward the nearest bed. It didn't take much longer before he had Dean tucked in under the overly-green covers, and he was considering making his way over to his own bed when he realized Dean's hand was clamped tight around his wrist, preventing him from going anywhere fast.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Sam turned around and patted Dean's arm, striding over to the other side of the bed and sliding under the covers beside his brother. It felt strange, to say the least. They hadn't slept in the same bed much since Sam was about ten, and definitely not since he'd left for Stanford. Plus, it had always been Dean watching over Sam while he slept, not the other way around. But if this was what it took to start putting his brother back together, Sam was more than willing.

After all, he thought as he glanced over at the apple pie still sitting on the table, Dean had just bared his soul to him in ways he had never thought possible. He'd shown that no matter what might be going on between them, he still trusted Sam enough to show him his most vulnerable self. And if the price was keeping his older brother safe from nightmares of Hell for just a little while, well, Sam figured that was the very least he could do.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to ArtsyVana's pic, "Brotherly Comfort": http://artsyvana.deviantart.com/art/Supernatural-Brotherly-Comfort-460077873


End file.
